howdy

The above examples have been provided with the authors' permission to demonstrate what these look like.

Basic rundown:

They are all 3 sentences long

Perfect grammar, capitalization, and punctuation

Like absolutely flawless English teacher-style writing with only a single exclamation mark, ever

No mentions whatsoever of character names, settings, situations, or anything that could be tied to the story

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Dust: Now replace "it" with women. Not so funny now is it?

Killer: Now replace "it" with women. Not so funny now is women?

Axe: Now replace "funny" with it. Not so it now is women?

Error: ...I'm having a fucking stroke

Dijon mustard is what it needed

Hardly a drop and this bowl of mac and cheese went from barely tolerable to AMAZING

You know that vast sensation you get when you look up at the stars and go “wow there are whole other worlds out there, massive, mysterious, and unknown.”

like, if you're a bomb disposal guy and your team has a cool bomb-disposal robot which you've given a cutesy name to, you may hesitate to put that robot in harm's way, which is NOT OPTIMAL in the bomb-disposing field.

it also doesn't help if you hold funerals for the robots after they get exploded (this happens pretty regularly).

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(SFW, Fluff, Angst)

Was that his name now...? The skeleton stared at the ground in front of him, his knees pulled up to his chest and his knife dangling from his grey-stained phalanges as he stared forward with blank, empty eye sockets. The first black trickles erupted from the corners of his sockets, but he didn't move. He could hear the name on the wind now, though he knew there was no one around for miles to call him that. "...Killer?" He spoke the name out loud and that alone seemed to silence the voices he was hearing. He wished he hadn't done that. There was nothing but silence and wind now. The skeleton was scrunched up outside of Grillby's, pressed against the wall next to the broken open door. What had happened to his adrenaline? He'd been so confident before. There was an uncomfortable pressure in his chest and he furrowed his brow. He knew what it was.

Killer let his knees fall from his chest as he loosened up, studying the new soul that burned in front of his body. He'd never seen one do that nor had he seen one that looked like that before. He lifted a grey-stained hand, hovering it over the burning target. The cold was biting at his bones, but he couldn't bring himself to get up. He could've just gone inside the building he was shivering against. The door was wide open. But there was no way he was getting up. He stared out over the snow quietly, taking note of the grey-stained patches and piles. And the way the snow around him looked like it was stained in human blood. Something black dropped onto his T-Shirt and he let his attention drift to it. It was a jet-black splotch and he raised his hand up to his face. Something wet was streaming from both of his sockets. Something black. After staring at it for a moment or two, he lowered his hand back down and slumped backwards against the building once more. It was so quiet. Killer closed his eyes.

After what felt like hours, there was an odd wailing in the wind. Killer furrowed his brow, it sounding just a little too real to be in his head. He opened his eyes, albeit with some difficulty since whatever was leaking from them had dried a little. He blinked a couple of times, turning his head to the side as he heard the wailing again. He stared quietly at the little creature in front of him. It was a house cat with white paws and a black coat. It had a bobbed tail and a white ear. For a moment, Killer couldn't even process that fact that there was still something alive right in front of him, let alone a cat. He knew they sometimes made their way in from above, but he hadn't thought he'd ever see one this close. He was broken out of his thoughts by another loud, plaintive meow. He focused on the cat a little more, the small animal taking a few steps towards him before turning and walking to the woods a little before coming back. It kept repeating this while meowing and Killer let the knife slip from his ash-covered hand. There was no more drive. No more excitement or adrenaline for him to hurt at the moment. Especially not this small creature.

Even though his bones were screaming, Killer pushed himself to his feet, turning to look down at the cat. He wondered how disheveled he must've looked right then. The cat meowed again, walking right up to his and rubbing against one of his legs before running towards the woods a little, looking back at him. Killer blinked as he stared after it. Surely it could smell what was on him. How could it still trust him? He took a few steps forward and the cat did the same towards the woods before looking back at Killer again. It did want him to follow it, that much was obvious to him now. Were the animals from above that stupidly trusting? Killer tipped his head as he followed the cat, it leading him into the woods. His newly exposed soul acted as a sort of demented flashlight, illuminating the way forward. The cat kept stopping and waiting for him before bounding forward again. Finally, they came to a tree with an opening in the roots. The cat paced around outside and let out another loud meow.

It dawned on Killer that it must not have been just stupid, but desperate. He knelt down in front of the hole, leaning forward so his soul could show him what was inside. Sure enough, there were five wriggling shapes inside. Little mewls and squeaks were heard from inside and Killer reached out to them. A couple of the kittens squirmed away from his hand, while others bat at it fiercely. They had to be almost a month old. Three of them looked like their mother with variations of black and white, though they all had long tails. The other two seemed to be grey and black tabby cats, though one had the bobbed tail. Killer remained on his knees in front of the hole, watching as the mother cat climbed inside and started to groom her wriggling babies furiously. He wondered how it was to be this blissfully ignorant to a potential danger. He was stained in dust up to his elbows, yet this small animal had seemed him trustworthy enough to come see her children? It was something he couldn't even fathom.

But her trust had been correct. Killer pulled back his hands and slipped off his stained jacket. The cold drive into his bones like knives, but there was an odd heat that spread from his soul like roots. He reached into the hole and started to scoop up the kittens as they squealed and mewled in protest, placing them into his jacket. Once he was able to scoop them up, he stood. "Come on, Mama." He mumbled quietly, though he knew the mother cat wouldn't understand him. He started trudging back towards Snowdin with the wriggling bundle in his arms. The mother cat meowed loudly, following at his heels and even running ahead of him sometimes. When they emerged from the woods, Killer finally shambled his way into Grillby's. As expected, it was empty. His slippers dragged along the wooden floorboards and he placed the bundle down on the round table. Instantly, the mother cat hopped up, sniffing and grooming each of the kittens. It was warmer in her than it was out there for sure.

He went behind the counter and dug around. He found some bottled water, though they were accompanied with a note on the shelf that seemed to be a reminder to make the customer pay extra for life insurance. Killer felt a soft scoff escape him at the thought of someone as unshakable of Grillby being afraid of a water bottle. It did make sense. He grabbed one and a plate to go with it, moving back over to the table and setting the plate down, filling it with water. The mother cat was the first to notice it, starting to lap at it immediately. Killer sat at the table, resting his head on his arms. "...You all can't stay here." He said softly. He was talking to himself at this point. "I... have Determination now. Surely I can just... go." He mumbled. Could he really get past the barrier like this? "You guys can't stay down here. There's no one left. There's nothing left." A few black splotches appeared on the table beneath him as he watched them quietly. Two of the kittens had come stumbling over, one furiously batting at his arm as the other just curled up in front of him. "How are you so trusting? How can you all trust me?? You can smell it, can't you?" Killer's voice was almost feverish at this point.

His soul gave a violent spasm in front of him and he flinched a little. The cats didn't seem to notice, the kittens having joined their mother at the water dish. Killer had his jaws parted, trying to control his breathing. He could hear those voice again. That voice. The child's voice. He couldn't hear what any of them were saying, but he could hear them. He raised his hands to his head, resting his forehead against his palms. "I HAVE to get you out of here. I can't let you stay here, but I don't know where you could go. I don't know where. I don't know." Killer froze as he felt a creeping coldness, his body locking up quietly. Someone else was here. It wasn't him nor was it any of the cats. The mother cat's fur had bushed out and she hissed at something behind him, a loud growl rattling in her throat. Killer didn't have his knife. Without even realizing, red magic had started to ignite around him, red knives appearing likes sparks of flame around him as he turned.

"You want to get them out? You want to get out?" A low, rumbling voice spoke from the mass of dripping darkness in front of him. Four tentacles pushed outwards from the back as a glowing, bright blue eye socket opened up. The mass was taking shape and Killer wasn't sure he liked how much it looked like him. He remained sitting, keeping himself firmly planted in front of the cats as red knives spun in orbit around him. The dark skeleton in front of him gave a smile and Killer's hands tightened on the table. "I can provide you these things, Killer. An escape for you and them. A home for you and them." That glowing eye seemed to burn into his own sockets. "I just need you to come with me."

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Killer blinked open his eyes, his vision blurry for a moment. He made a noise of acknowledgment at the ceiling of the main hall above him. He'd had that same memory as a dream for the past several nights, though Nightmare had assured him it wasn't his doing. How had he fallen asleep? Where was everyone else?? He sat up on the couch, taking note that his knife was still on the table in front of him. Nightmare had called them for a mission, telling them to gather in the main hall of the castle and Killer had gotten there first. He'd only meant to close his eyes for a few moments while waiting for everyone, but it seemed he'd been asleep for far longer than that. Why had no one woken him up?

He had to admit that he felt a little better than he had been for the past week or so. He barely slept more than an hour a night and he knew why, though the only person who would really understand was Nightmare. It had been years since that night and it was a week ago that he'd lost Rabbit, the last living kitten from Mama's litter. Rabbit had been the grey and black kitten with the bobbed tail and he had lived to 20, which was shockingly old for a cat. He'd been the last remnant of comfort Killer had had from his old world. Killer gave a quiet stretch and stood up, scooping his knife from the table. "They really just left me here?" He scoffed before nearly screaming as Dust's quiet voice spoke behind him.

"You were sleeping." The hooded skeleton had a penchant for being near silent when he moved. It was something Killer both hated and admired. He turned to look at the other. Dust was staring up at something next to his shoulder that Killer couldn't see. "No, no, he'll like it." He mumbled quietly. Dust held out a hand and Killer couldn't help but stare at his grey-stained fingers for a moment. The stains on his own hands were much more faded as he took the hooded skeleton's hand without question. He'd been violently distrustful of Dust when he'd met him and maybe even a little terrified at someone who'd done the same thing as him, but as some twisted form of justice. Dust didn't speak as often as everyone else, but Killer did tend to like that about him. Dust led him through the halls quietly.

"Can I at least get a hint where you’re taking me? You dragging me to cuddle again?" Killer teased softly, feeling the way Dust's hand tightened on his. The other didn't look back though, telling him in a brisk, but mumbling voice to shut up. "Got it, got it." Killer chuckled quietly. He was led to his own room and Dust finally let go of his hand as Killer raised a brow. Dust gestured to the door vaguely and Killer glanced at him before reaching out and opening it. He jumped as there was a loud, scratchy meow and his soul gave a spasm as he stared around. There were at least four cats that he could see, not to mention Horror was plopped in the center of his room. A large, fluffy brown Maine Coon was in Horror's lap and a sleek black cat was curled on Killer's pillow. There was a calico cat sitting among the books in one of his bookshelves and finally, there was a ruffled Ragdoll cat in front of him. It looked a little older with crinkly whiskers missing an eye. Killer didn't know what to do for a moment before being shoved inside from behind, yelping. Dust followed him inside, shutting the door.

It didn't seem Dust was giving him a moment to acknowledge everything he was seeing because he had taken his hand again and dragged him over to a beanbag in the corner. Killer couldn't stop himself from honing in on that familiar noise. The beanbag itself was empty, but he could hear what was behind it. Mewling and squeaking. He glanced at Dust, who gestured to it, using his magic to pull the beanbag back a little. An orange and white tabby cat was tending to three little bundles, though they didn't look to be more than three weeks old. One looked like her while the other two were completely white. "Found 'em on missions." Horror spoke up from behind Killer, making the other look back at him. "Took 'em from the AUs Boss was planning to destroy. Ones that were dying. Figured you'd know what to with 'em."

"Where have you been keeping them??" Killer finally broke through his disbelief to speak again, glancing down as the grizzled Ragdoll cat rubbed up against his leg. "Do they need to be bathed?? Are any of them injured?" He stopped as Dust took his shoulder, squeezing it.

"We took care of all that. Got ourselves some... pretty nasty scratches, but nothin' we couldn't heal. We got 'em all cleaned up before we brought them to you. We were hoping you could help us... take care of them a little better. Because you did so good with... Mama and the rest of them." Horror said, giving odd pauses between some words as he tried to think of them quickly. "Can you help us, Killer? There's a lot of 'em, but Boss said he'd let us keep them." Killer paused, genuinely surprised to hear that Nightmare had agreed. He knew the only reason the other had let him keep Mama and her litter was so Killer would agree to come with him. He was pulled out of his thoughts by both of Dust's hands on his shoulders, lowering him into a sitting position. The second he was sitting, Killer jumped as the Ragdoll cat climbed onto his lap, kneading him before settling down. "Heh. Now you’re trapped too." Horror said, managing a crooked grin.

"You... fucking assholes..." Killer couldn't even pretend to be angry, his soul spasming too much. He parted his jaws and squeezed his sockets shut, trying to control himself. He blinked as he felt Dust lay against his back, the other's hooded head resting against his shoulder and his grey-stained fingers snagged into the sleeve of Killer's jacket. Killer knew that earning that level of trust from Dust was rare, if not impossible. He paused as he heard Dust speak in a whisper, asking if he was really mad. "...I'm not. I wouldn't be. This... I didn't expect this, okay? I thought... I was just gonna lose Rabbit and that was the end of it." Killer admitted.

He would've only ever told Dust or Horror that being able to have such small animals like cats rely on him for protection and companionship was the only thing that had kept his mind from unraveling and his soul from deteriorating. The Determination of taking care of them was enough to fuel his soul and the calm he felt from knowing the small animals trusted him outbalanced the psychotic adrenaline he got from demolishing AUs during missions. "Do any of them even have names?" Killer asked. Dust gave a shrug and Horror immediately spoke up, his red eyes wide with excitement.

"I get to name this one Turkey then!" Horror responded, gesturing to the massive Maine Coon that kept him pinned by his lap. Dust let out a loud snorting noise, covering his mouth as he broke down into quiet laughter. Killer had never been one to be able to take Dust's laugh seriously and he soon started snickering too. He sighed and stared at the floor, feeling another line of black run down his face. When he had told Dust and Horror how cats helped him, he hadn't expected them to remember or take it seriously. He squeezed his sockets shut and his spasming soul started to shift into the new shape he'd just started getting used to. A target in the shape of a regular monster soul. Killer opened his eyes and the white rings in his sockets glowed bright as he took in everything. He wouldn't dare cry in front of them, but it sure felt like he was about to. He glanced up and waved a hand at Horror's concerned look, managing to say that it was nothing. He felt Dust rub his cheek against his shoulder and Killer could tell Horror wanted to come hug him too, though he seemed trapped.

Summary: The nest needs to be perfect, Cross thinks.